Valor
by Punisher WZ Forever
Summary: This "prequel" story recounts how this reality's Punisher received the Congressional Medal of Honor from singularly defending an Afghan village from Taliban insurgents while still a black ops US Marine.
1. Chapter 1

Valor

Punisher

For Victim 0001

1

Farah Valley; Islamic Republic of Afghanistan

0042 hrs local; Autumn 2005

The cool arid night air blew around Capt. Frank Castle, USMC, call sign Punisher, as he made his solitary descent into the Farah River Valley. Many didn't volunteer for these deep recon patrols into enemy territory, but as most in the spec ops and intelligence communities would say – most operators and agents weren't as crazy as the Punisher either.

Punisher. It was a call sign well earned from over a hundred sniper kills – and that was excluding every other type of enemy kill he'd made.

From the spec ops commanders' POV, when it came to Frank, they had maintained a similar conclusion from his early career to the present – that he was the finest cross-trained commando ever produced by any professional military force. Period.

To that end, they typically sent him on the most dangerous solo missions – which he readily accepted.

This mission was no different, but it was recon only. He was under strict orders not to engage any enemy forces – Taliban, Haqqani, etc. – unless cleared to do so per ROE protocol. He was to avoid detection also.

There was growing concern from the allied command that the Taliban insurgency had heard about a few western friendly villages along the Farah River Valley that had supplied valuable intel to western forces since 2001. These villages - that had suffered greatly under Taliban rule - had wanted to aid allied forces where possible. If attacked, they would stand little chance against the insurgents, as most of their able-bodied men were dead. It would be a slaughter.

A few hours into his nightly patrol, Frank came across some strange tire tracks in the rugged dirt. Crouching next to them and resting his modified M4 carbine against his tactical vest, he ran his hand over them. They were definitely military/utility issue – and not something that any village in the region would be in possession of.

Under orders to maintain radio silence until 0500 local, Frank broke it anyway. "Command, Punisher. Do you copy?"

"We read you, P. You weren't supposed..."

"Castle - what the hell are you doing on this channel now?" said his CO, Major Hockett, interrupting the radio tech on duty.

"I have recent tire tracks here, sir. The enemy uses similar treading."

"So?"

"Sat scans showed this area to be clear."

"Those scans are hours apart, Castle; anything can happen between them. You know that. Are you in contact with the enemy?"

"No..."

"Have you been detected?"

"No."

"Then only break silence again if it's an emergency or your designated mission time to do so..."

"Sir, with respect, Farah village is only ten clicks southwest of my position. As they are friendly to us, they might be targeted by the insurgents..."

"Captain – you are under strict orders not to reveal yourself in any way. Complete your recon probe and radio in for extraction at the designated time. Is that clear?"

Frank sighed.

"Captain?"

"Yes."

"Is that clear?"

"It is..."

Frank ended the transmission. He studied the tracks some more. They headed off to the northwest. It wasn't in the exact direction as the village, but that didn't mean anything to him. The terrain was so rugged and unpredictable it didn't matter.

The only way to know for sure was to ask command to sat scan the area for him – but with Hockett breathing down everyone's neck that wasn't going to happen.

Frank sensed a choice coming – and all on very little evidence. His gut told him something bad was going to happen in the area. He could be wrong, but he didn't believe so.

When it came to sensing evil and how it worked, he'd always seemed to have an almost uncanny feeling about where to find it – to destroy it.

He was having that feeling now – and it had never been wrong. It had been right during his pre-military seminary days and had been right throughout his military career to date.

He also thought of his wife, son, and daughter back home. He barely saw them anymore it seemed, and as this war showed no signs of ending anytime soon – especially in the spec ops sense – Frank realized that separation time might only lengthen.

But he couldn't ignore that damned feeling either...

He made a choice.

Reaching up to his vest – he disabled his comm unit. Command could only track him by satellite, drone, or air units now. And as his GI boots were the only pair authorized to be on this regional deck, he didn't have to worry about any others showing up soon to stop him.

Command's detection of his comm disablement would have been immediate.

Hockett's anger would have been immediate to follow that.

Standing, Frank gripped his weapon, and headed off to the southwest – in the direction of Farah village.


	2. Chapter 2

2

A few careful hours later into the night, Frank made it to the outskirts of Farah village. Going prone by some rocks, Frank scanned the village with night vision/thermal binoculars. He detected some suspicious activity from several of the outer village dwellings. Fixing on those potential targets, he spotted gunmen. He didn't spot any vehicles however.

A woman's shrill scream of terror suddenly pierced the night.

Frank tensed with alertness. It came from the village, and from the direction of the armed men.

It appeared that a militant detachment had indeed arrived in the village and was likely interrogating the villagers for proof of their pro-western affiliations and any valuable intel to accompany it.

And it was getting them hurt – maybe killed.

Frank saw no evidence of additional insurgents present. Moving to a crouch, Frank readied his carbine and moved out for the village. His target was the insurgent occupied area.

He scanned the outer desert area as he made his approach on the moonless night. He spotted no threats. He returned his aim on the insurgent area as he closed at deliberate foot speed. He made good time and progress and reached the rear wall section of a village home a moment later. He still didn't have an exact enemy count, and would have to improvise as he went. He did have the patrol pattern down for the first target however, and unsheathing his combat knife, Frank moved around the structure to kill him.

Reaching the wall corner the insurgent would soon pass by; Frank kept his knife ready and waited.

The same woman screamed again, but from a few homes down from Frank's location. As she did so, Frank gripped the knife tightly, his anger flaring. His training cooled and focused him to the task at hand, as it had countless times before to prevent mistakes.

He heard the footsteps of the insurgent about to pass by him...

Movement occurred before Frank's eyes. He maintained his concealed position, letting the insurgent expose his back to Frank.

Then, Frank moved out from cover, quickly yet silently for the enemy's vulnerable backside. When near, Frank reached out to cover the enemy's mouth, kicked hard to the back of his knee to make him fall upon it, and as he did so, Frank stabbed his knife at a low angle into the side base of the enemy's neck. Frank waited a second, withdrew the knife, and then dragged the dead enemy back into concealment. Frank gathered up the enemy's dropped rifle and left it with the dead enemy as well for later collection in case it was needed.

Frank then moved for the woman's location, carbine ready for action.

No threats were encountered prior to his arriving at the dwelling the woman was located in.

Frank heard her pained moans, along with a man's angry interrogating of her in what Frank guessed to be Pashto – an Afghan language he was not proficient in. He was proficient in Persian however, which was readily used for communication between the various Afghan ethnic entities.

The interrogator repeated a similar sounding question twice, to which the woman replied she didn't know anything – her Pashto phrase being one that Frank did recognize.

The interrogator growled and angrily called her a liar before a slapping sound occurred, followed by the woman's moans of increased pain.

Frank heard footsteps from behind him...

He spun around and fell prone, using the total darkness to remain hidden.

A patrolling gunman approached from Frank's rear flank and closed in his direction, but didn't Frank in the darkness as he did so.

Frank slowly went to a low crouch and moved his carbine around in his grasp to be stock first. When the enemy was in range, Frank lunged up and out from the darkness and slammed the carbine stock into the enemy's throat, shattering his windpipe and preventing him from raising the alarm. As the enemy gasped and choked, he dropped his weapon to the ground, staggered backwards, but didn't fall before Frank drew his knife and stabbed him in the heart.

Securing that second enemy's body, Frank returned to the front wall section to the dwelling where the woman continued to be tortured.

The interrogator spoke in low menacing tones, and the woman wept. As Frank contemplated how to proceed, he heard a gun's hammer being pulled back for action.

Frank risked acting.

He appeared through the open doorway. The seated, restrained, and beaten woman spotted Frank, and at seeing him, her eyes widened. The insurgent saw her reaction, and turned around to see what had drawn that reaction from her; a readied pistol held low in his hand.

Before he could finish turning, Frank's knife was already flying through the air to strike the interrogator in the side of his head, burying itself into his skull and killing him instantly.

Frank crouched beside the third enemy to secure him while the woman watched him. Frank removed the knife from the interrogator's head. The woman saw the long combat blade covered in enemy gore and panicked.

Frank secured the blade and held up open hands to show his good intentions. In Persian, he said, [Do you understand me?]

[Yes,] she said. [Who are you?]

[I'm a friend. I'm here to help. How many more are there?]

[Three total, including him...I think.]

He nodded. [Then I got them all. I'm going to free you, okay?]

She nodded.

Positioning himself behind her, he drew his knife again and cut her bonds. She rubbed her sore wrists once freed.

[Do you need medical attention?]

[No. I'm fine. It's just cuts and bruises. Who are you?]

[I'm Frank. What's your name?]

[Nadia.]

[Nadia, do you know why these men are here?]

She looked at the American flag patch on his vest and nodded slowly. [Yes...]

Frank's attention to detail caught that. [You've helped us before?]

[My husband did. Two years ago. The Taliban...beheaded him...for his...collaboration.]

[I'm aware that Farah village is anti-Taliban.]

[But we are not anti-Muslim.]

[Of course not. That's just what they want everyone else to think.]

[Are you here to protect us?]

Frank nodded and sighed. [Yes.]

[How many of you are there, Frank?]

He sighed again. [Just me.]

[Just you...?]

He heard the despair in her voice. [Yeah. Why?]

[More are coming by morning, Frank. Many more.]

[Why?]

[A new Taliban commander has emerged and wants to make an example of our village to show what happens when we work with the Americans.]

[How many villagers are there, Nadia?]

[105 – including me. Most are women, children, and elderly. Many of them are disabled from missing limbs and other wounds from war and torture.]

By morning... It was still possible that Command might be able to chopper in some aid – quick reaction aid – to defend the village. Maybe even a few gunships for air support.

Though dreading to speak to Major Hockett again, Frank had to try. Enabling his comm unit again, he radioed command.

"Command, Punisher. Do you read me?"

"Castle! Where have you been?" demanded Hockett an instant later. "Why did you disable your comm?"

"I'm in Farah village, sir."

"You're...where?"

"Farah."

"Castle..."

"There are enemies here, sir, and I've just confirmed with a villager that a larger enemy force is due to arrive by morning to eliminate the village. I request an immediate QRF be dispatched to Farah for its defense and subsequent evacuation."

"Castle – are you out of your goddamn mind? You disobeyed orders; you went off comm, revealed your presence to both locals and enemies alike..."

"Will you grant my request or not – sir?"

"No, Castle, I most certainly will not."

Frank's anger got the better of him. "You son of a bitch."

"What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me, you goddamn coward."

"You listen here, you mutinous piece of shit. You're ordered..."

Frank shut the unit off again, growling as he did so. Though Nadia didn't know English, she could easily tell things hadn't gone well.

[Frank?]

Sighing, Frank rubbed his head in thought. [I'm...alone on this, Nadia. I'm sorry.]

That obviously didn't comfort her very much – not that he could have expected it to.

His family's image entered his mind...

[I'm going to help you all through this, okay? Do you trust me? Can you trust me?]

[Yes, Frank, I trust you.]

He nodded. [All right. This is war now.]

[War is something that we are long used to, Frank. Soviets, Taliban – even Americans – brutality is an everyday reality for us.]

Frank couldn't answer that. Despite his great training, he was still only one man in a much larger, complicated conflict. He would do his very best though – for them and his family. The latter, so that he could return to them, safely.

[Can anyone here shoot or fight?]

[No.]

Frank nodded slowly. [Okay. Then I need to get ready. Please tell the villagers about me and why I'm here. Okay?]

[Okay.]

They went to work.

XXX

From the near northwest, an assembled convoy of heavily armed Taliban insurgents rolled out for Farah village. Equipped with cameras and live satellite links to TV and the web, it was their intention, under the direction of their new hawkish commander, to show the Afghan people and the greater world that they were not to be messed with and that they would rule Afghanistan again – no matter what.

This would be proven through televised beheadings and other forms of ritualistic execution of the villagers to show what happened to traitors.

The commander's orders were explicit – no villager whatsoever was to be spared from the sword.


	3. Chapter 3

3

The predawn arrived.

The sounds of the enemy drew near.

A village remained afraid but also comforted by the lone warrior that had appeared out of seeming nowhere to protect them. And his purpose fir aiding them had nothing to do with politics, religion or anything like that.

Only to do what was humanly right.

Frank had gathered up the dead enemy weapons and ammo, surveyed the village for tactical strengths/weaknesses, assumed his first concealed assault position, and waited.

The villagers had moved to a number of different structures and in varied amount to throw off the enemy's numbers. This also provided less risk to the village population as Frank engaged them from the probable direction of entry.

As the initial daylight spread out across the arid region, Frank spotted the incoming enemy convoy. They were indeed heavily armed and ready to assert militant control of this village.

Prone beside a dwelling corner for cover, Frank sighted in on the front vehicle's driver with his carbine scope. He compensated for the light wind and target movement, suspended his breath, and fired...

The bullet tore through the vehicle's windshield and struck the driver virtually in the center of his forehead. The truck screeched to a stop, along with the other vehicles behind it.

The insurgents swept the village area ahead with their weapons, trying to pinpoint the sniper.

Frank killed two more enemies in quick succession before they found him and returned fire. He'd already relocated to cover, and their bullets hit only the empty dwelling.

Frank moved around to the other side of the dwelling and waited for them to resume their advance. They did so, but with many of their soldiers unloading from the trucks. Some of them continued the escort the vehicles into the village while the bulk of them spread out to form a pincer formation around the village. Frank could tell from this activity, along with their shooting, that they had better training than most insurgents did. They would definitely pose more of a challenge than others had in the past.

A number also possessed heavy weaponry like RPGs, which would put the villagers at even greater risk if Frank wasn't careful.

He chose to snipe down the rocket men first. As the vehicles approached the village, Frank targeted the first rocket man, and fired. He took down him with a head shot, but the return fire was heavy and immediate.

One gunman spotted him and shouted [American!] in Pashto.

Frank ran between dwellings for new cover. His goal now was to thin out the flankers to both sides of the village before they could cause any major devastation. He spotted the next few rocket men and fired on them. He killed them fast, but the riflemen next to him returned fire quick.

Before Frank could completely return to cover, several bullets hit a dwelling wall near him and sent flying debris into his eyes.

"Damn it."

He dropped to a crouch behind cover and worked to clear his vision.

The gunmen shouted and Frank could hear them running in his direction.

If he didn't haul ass and fast, they would be on top of him.

His vision cleared. He scanned the area and prepared to move out again when he literally ran into an insurgent. The insurgent cursed and tried to shoot Frank down with his AK but Frank quick drew his sidearm and put two rounds into the insurgent's chest and killed him.

Hearing gunmen from behind, Frank positioned himself behind the dying insurgent he'd just shot and used him for a human shield. He killed another insurgent with a controlled pair before the others sent rounds flying into the shielding insurgent's body, ensuring his instant death along with not hitting Frank.

He holstered his sidearm, readied a grenade, and waited for them to run out.

Several of the rounds exited the insurgent's body however and either impacted Frank's vest or grazed his unprotected limb areas. He felt the bullets scratch his flesh but held his ground.

They finally ran out.

He lobbed the grenade for the reloading gunmen. They cried out in alarm and panic as it landed nearly right between. It exploded and burned them down. More were swiftly moving to replace them.

Frank dropped the dead insurgent riddled with bullet holes to the ground, dropped prone behind it and readied his carbine.

The new gunmen fired, the bullets continuing to hit the dead insurgent, but Frank had sufficient cover and time to kill them with minimal ammo wasted. Rolling onto his back, and still using the dead enemy for cover, Frank made sure that his weapons remained fully loaded.

A dwelling to his rear exploded, causing him to jump.

It had been an RPG hit by the sound of it – and there were villagers inside.

Burning and screaming human forms exited the destroyed dwelling via the doors and windows. They wildly waved their hands in the air as they were burned alive. They then fell dead.

Frank went to a crouch, carbine ready, and moved in that direction. As anticipated, he spotted gunmen, as they shot down any villagers they encountered. Frank targeted the insurgents as fast as he could and fired on them.

He managed to kill three before needing to dive behind cover.

He then heard a distinctive speedy whoosh...and coming right for him.

Training forced him to reposition, knowing full damn well that a rocket was coming for him. It was too late though. The rocket hit the area of cover, and it sent debris flying in all directions. Frank rolled onto his stomach and covered his head and face with his arms and hands as best he could.

The flames burned his uniform and his flesh beneath, although not severely. The real wounding came from the flying debris, essentially turned into projectiles via the concussive propulsion of the explosion.

He felt a sharp piece of debris enter the side of his leg. He cried out as it did so, and then rolled onto his back to clutch at it. The moment he touched it, his hands burned. He removed them from it and gasped.

He sensed the gunmen were drawing close. He readied his rifle to resume battle. Coming to a painful crouch, Frank ignored his pain as trained to do, and focused. He aimed through the smoke of the burning dwelling and the approaching gunmen.

He saw them first.

Five enemies fell dead atop each other from a full auto burst from Frank.

His M4 was out. He dropped it, drew his sidearm and moved to the nearest fallen enemy to gather up his weapon and ammo. With that weapon now secured and loaded, Frank made it his new primary. He would sweep the area of enemies, gathering up additional primary ammo as he went.

It grew quiet, and every step Frank took increased the pain in his wounded leg. His mobility was being hampered and the pain was affecting his ideal battle focus.

Clearing the immediate area, Frank crouched beside a dead enemy, removed the simple turban from his head, gripped the cooled debris piece in his leg, and pulled it free. Frank prevented a cry of pain from escaping his lips, and used the dead enemy's turban as a field dressing around his debris wound. Tying it off good, Frank prepared again for combat.

It was still quiet, but he was sure they were still out there.

He relocated to good cover. He bandaged leg didn't hurt as much now and his mobility wasn't as affected.

They likely hadn't assaulted again because not only had they not expected a western presence here, but were still uncertain as to how many western forces were present. And given how much damage he'd issued out already, the enemy was not likely sure yet that only one marine opposed them. He intended to keep them guessing, but they would definitely be more cautious now with the casualties they'd suffered so far because of him.

Frank remained vigilant.

Sweeping his confiscated enemy rifle to the left, Frank spotted movement. It was enemy. Two more followed behind him – one with an RPG. They were moving cautiously, slowly, through the village. They were making a probe of the village interior to determine enemy strength.

Frank was believed their numbers were still higher than what they appeared, meaning that they were staggering their entry into the village.

This probe was also likely a feint. Once they engaged him again, they would likely send in flankers.

Frank intended to draw in the remaining enemy force and annihilate them.

Aiming for the rocket man, Frank shot him down, then relocated.

The two riflemen returned fire but missed.

Frank fired blind suppressing fire at them to force them to nearby cover. As they did so, he readied his last frag and threw it at them. Both died in a fiery explosion shortly thereafter.

Relocating again, Frank heard running steps from multiple directions.

He found good cover and waited.

A new group of four entered and Frank engaged them, killing them all. Another group from his right fired on him but missed. He rolled out from cover prone and fired on them, killing them all.

Shouts of enemy panic filled the air, telling Frank that he'd nearly killed them all.

Three more entered from his rear, forcing him to dive behind the same bit of cover but from the opposite direction. Their bullets tore up the cover to pieces. They paused. Frank sensed they were going to flank him from both sides. It would force them to spread out to do so.

Risking exposure, Frank reloaded and came out from the side firing. He killed that side's flanker, followed by the centrally located enemy.

Bullets from the remaining enemy in that group came dangerously close to Frank, but the insurgent's weapon was poorly maintained, buying Frank time to return to cover again.

Moving to the same side of the cover as his resolute, closing enemy, Frank boldly threw himself out from cover, shooting on full auto as he did so. The insurgent returned fire too, but Frank's bodily motion combined with his better aim put four rounds into the insurgent's chest.

As Frank landed on his side, his weapon ran dry. He was also out of mags, short of collecting more of the enemy dead.

Frank went to a crouch, and was drawing his sidearm when two bullets from his left struck his vest, then through his arm – exiting too – with a fourth striking the side of his combat helmet. It disoriented him, causing him to fall onto his side.

He tried to spin around with his sidearm but his attacker was upon him before he could. And it wasn't just anyone. It was the enemy commander.

The Taliban commander tackled Frank as he tried to rise. Frank's pistol flew from his grasp as the commander sought the up-close battle kill. More than that, he was armed with a sword.

Setting his forearm across Frank's throat while pinning him to the ground, the commander drew his blade to cut Frank down.

Frank reached for a handful of dirt and threw it into the commander's eyes. Frank jabbed the commander in the face to knock him off. Frank then rolled away along the ground. As he came up to a crouch, the commander was already back on his feet and lunging at Frank in a frenzied state.

Sword in a firm two-handed grasp, the commander stabbed Frank in his uninjured leg. The strike was deep and effective at immobilizing Frank. The commander pulled the sword free, and Frank drew his knife. The commander expertly twirled his sword to strike his blade to Frank's, knocking it clear from Frank's hand.

The commander spun around and stabbed Frank through the side, penetrating his vest and entering his flesh. Frank felt like his insides were going to explode. The commander laughed at seeing that he was about to kill Frank.

Weaponless, Frank sensed that the commander was about to decapitate him – just as he wanted to do.

Frank removed his helmet; the commander pulled the blade free of Frank's body.

Ignoring the agony that he felt, Frank yelled and lunged at the commander, using his helmet to hit the commander's sword hand. The blade fell from the commander's hand. This surprised the commander, but Frank didn't pause for an instant, as his strength was fading fast in comparison to that of the commander.

Frank used the helmet to hit the commander in the side of the head. Frank then tripped him, straddled his prone form, and used the helmet to smash the commander's head in until nothing recognizable was left.

Spent, Frank fell over supinely to the side of his enemy, and stared up at the daytime sky.

Darkness fought its way into his vision. He tried to reach for his radio, but was too weak to do so.

[Frank!] It was Nadia.

She dropped beside him a moment later. She took a hand of his into hers. [Frank – you did it! You killed them all.]

[Are – are you sure...?]

[Yes.]

[There...were so many...]

[I know, but you did it.]

[How...many villagers...lost...?]

She sobered. [Ten...]

Frank was about to lose consciousness, and he sensed it. [Sorry...]

She squeezed his hand with both of hers. [Don't be. You saved more than you lost. Allah be merciful to you...]

Frank lost consciousness.

Nadia saw his many wounds, and then his disabled vest radio. Recalling his operating it, she turned it on.

"Hello," she said into the radio in very broken English. "Hello. Help."

"Who is this? Identify yourself," said Major Hockett.

"Hello. Help Frank."

With his location pinpointed via his radio's activation, Hockett ordered a medevac chopper for Frank. While en route, Nadia and the villagers treated Frank's wounds as best they could until ideal medical care could be administered.

The chopper arrived an hour later with a Force Recon element aboard. Securing the combat zone, they extracted Frank and gathered intel.

Frank had killed forty insurgents singlehandedly while suffering serious but not critical wounds in the process.

The aftermath of his rogue actions still had yet to be determined by command, but for the surviving villagers of Farah, they were forever in Frank's debt.


	4. Chapter 4

4

The Pentagon

One Month Later...

"Captain Francis David Castle, United States Marine Corps, Special Operations Detachment – please step forward," said Vice Admiral Stephen V. Jones of the US Special Operations Command.

The still healing Frank stood from his front row seat as requested. In his dress blues, Frank, using a cane for assistance, left his wife, five-year-old daughter, and infant son to approach the small stage.

Assembled for the solemn ceremony was a group of thirty persons, including Frank and his family. The others were mainly spec ops personnel that were aware of what Frank had done in Afghanistan a month earlier. The president wasn't present for the ceremony, nor would the public ever hear about what had transpired due to the mission's classified and controversial nature. Frank's wife Maria didn't know all of the mission details, nor did she need to. She was just glad to have her husband home safe.

As for Frank home was where he would stay – for the remainder of his career. Though he had done right in the finest moral sense, it had come with a price. Most worthwhile pursuits in life usually did. And while he would soon be awarded America's highest military decoration for valor – mainly given posthumously – his roguish actions could not be legally sanctioned under the UCMJ. To that effect, and while he'd recovered from his wounds, command had made clear that his field mission days were over. He would also never be promoted again. He would be restricted to a spec ops instructor role for the duration of his career. He was okay with this, as being with family meant more to him than anything else. It had made his family happy when he'd told them he'd be close to home from now on.

So, in the end, it had all worked out, and in the Castle family's favor.

Stepping onto the stage, Frank moved to the center, faced the assembled, and stood at attention.

Admiral Jones approached him with a small case in his hands.

"Captain Castle, on behalf of the president of the United States, its armed forces, and a grateful citizenry, I hereby present you with this Congressional Medal of Honor in recognition of your extraordinary heroism, gallantry, selflessness, and moral sensibility that reflects not only the finest values of our nation and its military, but of universal humanitarianism as well."

Jones opened the box, removed the medal, and moved behind Frank to tie it around his neck. Jones then moved to the front of Frank and saluted him; Frank returned it. They then shook hands.

"Congratulations, captain, and thank you."

"Thank you, sir."

The uniformed personnel in the room then stood and saluted Frank; he returned it.

The ceremony concluded.

Frank departed with his family to New York to be together and to build a future.

XXX

Five years later, Frank and his family couldn't have been happier. He taught commandos how to better commandos in upstate New York and had great working hours. Those five years were the happiest that Frank – or any human being for that matter – could ever have. The Castle family's bliss drew the envy of many. Other families around them fractured, split, and went separate bitter ways; but the Castles always came through every storm intact. The Castles seemed impervious to any major suffering.

Then, one beautiful morning in Central Park, very similar to another New York morning in September, the unthinkable occurred during a common picnic. And while three thousand didn't fall that day in the park, three did. It had been nearly four, but this sole survivor was never the same again.

Half alive, half not, humanity's greatest avenger had been born...

The Punisher.

End


End file.
